


Slash and Burn

by jakelsx



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Season 4B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakelsx/pseuds/jakelsx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slash and burn. Wreaking havoc. </p>
<p>But for a second, Maggie isn't too far gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slash and Burn

**Author's Note:**

> "Maggie is definitely channeling that grief straight into anger."

Slash and burn.

Wreaking havoc.

Bullet to the brain. Dagger to the head. One by one by one by one they all went down.

The taste of iron in her mouth. The stench of rotting flesh in the air. Her hair soaked with sweat.

A clean slice through the skull. Blood covers the blade. And her face.

The carnage is real. Guts, flesh, meat.

Still, one by one, she takes them down. She steps over her victims. Boots sloshing in the muck.

Can’t stop. Fire burns in her veins. It is an endless rampage. She thrusts her knife into their eyes and wrings out the juices. She rips open gross wounds and watches them bleed. She crushes their heads with her boots and listens to crunch of bones beneath her feet. Her fingers tighten around the hilt of her blade. Sweat drips down her face and mixes with the blood.

In the night, she listens to their groans and counts the minutes until daylight, when she can continue her work. She sits hunched over in a cabin they find in the woods. Her company is hesitant to approach her, especially in the stillness of the night.

“She should clean up, check for injuries,” Bob whispers.

“No,” Sasha replies. Their voices carry in the small space. “Let her be.”

Maggie sits next to the window while Bob and Sasha sleep. There is a tightness in her chest that constricts her lungs so she takes shallow breathes when she can. Her face is black in the darkness. The moonlight comes in at a sharp angle, sparse but bright white.

A glint catches her eye.

It is the diamond on her wedding ring. The once-iridescent jewel is caked with debris but a small surface shines through. She wipes off the mud that has collected on it. Tenderly, carefully she touches it. A shiver runs through her body.

Suddenly she is overwhelmed by the urge to say his name. To feel the sound on her lips. “Glenn.” She closes her eyes and sees him.

He is walking towards her with his baseball cap on. He’s got a goofy smile plastered across his face and that lame guitar in his hands. He gestures her towards a wooden bench. It is the old farm. Her father’s favorite place.

Then she sees her father come out the front door and shake Glenn’s hand. He whispers something in Glenn’s ear and laughs. When they both turn to look at her, she realizes that she never felt so much love in her life. These two beautiful men in front of her. Looking at her with their gentle eyes and marvelous smiles. She wants to tell them to stay. Just stay for a little while more. But then her father disappears. It’s just Glenn.

The image is so clear in her head that when she opens her eyes, he’s there. He looks healthy. His eyes hold a forever-playful spark. His hair is much too long. It was her Glenn.

A small smile stretches across her mouth and a relieved sigh escapes her lips. No more worrying. No more anger. Instead a familiar warmth filled her heart and she takes her first deep breath in days. “Glenn,” she whispers. He lifts his hand up to cup her cheek. She eagerly leans into it and she can feel every callous on his palm. She closes her eyes again, relishing his feel, his touch.

When she opens her eyes again, he is gone.

A single tear rolls down her cheek, but it soon disappears into the sweat and blood. 


End file.
